A Game of Whist

All this stuff is fiction, so if anyone takes it seriously or sees anyone resembling the guys in question, they can go boil their heads. Oh yeah, this set in late 1930s so there won’t be any mobiles, electronic bugging, GPS etc. Also, please comment; otherwise the curse of a broken man (read: me) will haunt you for life

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†Part I†

“It’s a mystery, sir” said Detective Inspector Hope.

Two men, Detective-Inspector Hope and his superior, Colonel Hasterely were seated at either sides of a round table at Scotland Yard. Detective-Inspector Hope, leaning towards his superior as he uttered these words, was a tall, thin and nondescript young man, rather obviously addicted to soap and water. Melancholia oozed from every pore of his body, and even now, he was gazing gloomily at his superior. A greater contrast between the two men couldn’t have been imagined. Colonel Hasterely was a short, ferrety man with a few red hair (unfortunately) adorning the top of his ungainly, bullet shaped head. He was a lurid fellow, bursting with praise for the world when content, and irascible when not. Detective-Inspector Hope didn’t approve of his superior to a large extent, but he had to respect his unsettlingly accurate instincts and his shrewd judgment. So he sat in front of him with lips pursed and shoulders hunched, and then set forth to recite facts in a dry and precise voice:

“Mr. Adlakha was a bachelor, a man of sound and unshakably just disposition. He was cultured and refined individual. Born in 1894, he is the son of the Duke of Hampshire.
His background is good and no one complained against him. Now sir, coming to the facts of the crime; He was in the habit of playing a game of whist every now and then. He was a cautious player and nearly always rose the winner. If you please, sir, let me describe his friend circle. The party was at the house of a certain Mr. Be……”

Here, the Chief interrupted and said “Shut up and get out. Send Pollitt in.”

Detective-Inspector Hope was not in the habit of being interrupted brusquely, so no wonder that the disapproval on his face became more marked as he got up to go out. He distinctly resembled a disgruntled old aunt bargaining with an unwilling shopkeeper.

After a few minutes, Detective-Inspector Pollitt arrived. He sported a handsome, grinning visage and a general air of geniality. He was (though maybe he didn’t look like it) one of the Chief’s right-hand men, mainly because he possessed a clear sense and an ability to read between the lines, and partly because he happened to have a nature similar to the Chief.

“Well”, said Colonel Hasterely, “had to get rid of that ass Hope. Can’t stand these stiff-and-staunch old Etonians. Someone ought to drown them at birth, so that they don’t muck up the place looking like they’ve swallowed a lemon or two. Fire off, then, and look sharp about it.”

Detective-Inspector Pollitt looked at his Chief. Whatever he saw, he must have liked it because he grinned and fired off:

“Well, Sir, coming to this Adlakha bird, he was one of these stiff-collared, butter-won’t-melt-in-my-mouth people. Must’ve been an old Etonian. He gambled all right, but purely for the fun of it. On the night of the crime, he went to this bird Bedi’s house
(Detective-Inspector Pollitt, whatever his finer qualities may be, always substituted Mr./Dr./Ms./Mrs. for ‘bird’. Unsurprisingly, so did the Chief) There were a couple of bir…sorry, people besides these two. One was a certain (with a proud emphasis) Ms. Anupama, fiancée of the Adlakha bird…”

Here, the Chief interrupted and said, “One of those actresses from Lollywood? The one who talks as if there’s no tomorrow? ”

“That’s the one, Sir”

“Funny what he saw in her” mused the Chief, “I thought she looked a bit like my labrador Venu. But continue”

Pollitt grinned and resumed, “And a Shivam bird. He’s a tiny bloke, the kind who get steamrollered by a caterpillar. But he’s a big noise in the Royal Academy of Science. Designed something or the other. But anyway, from reliable sources I’ve heard that this Shivam bird was smitten by that Anupama bird and he even proposed to her. But she refused and chose Adlakha. However, there was no hard feeling between them and they were the best of pals. Anyway, here are the facts of the case:

18:00 – Adlakha & the other birds arrive, chat with Bedi
19:00 – Dinner is announced
19:00 - 20:30 – Dinner
20:45 – 21:00 – Coffee
21:00 – 22:00 – Birds have a smoke and chat
22:00 – Whist starts
23:00 – Five games played, Bedi leads by a game
23:28 – Adlakha in the act of putting down a card (a King of Aces). Falls forward on the table, Doctor brought in
23:35 – the Doctor bird proclaims him dead, Anupama raises hell (or Cain, whichever is noisier)”

Here, the Chief snorted and made a noise like ‘Tchah!!’ After snorting to his heart’s content, he said,

“Sure it’s murder? I mean, can it be an accident or something?”

Pollitt replied evenly, “I appreciate your point, Sir. So far, we think its murder. There is no evidence of a cardiac arrest, seizure or anything. If it’s an accident, then I’ll be blowed. However, medicos are still working, though. I think they will come up with something definite soon. I expect their report soon.”

Colonel Hasterely said, “Any possibility of suicide, though not likely not on the cards?”

Pollitt considered and said, “Wash that right out, Sir. I don’t know anyone who would commit suicide in front of three other birds, by some method as far unknown to the medicos. There was no suicide note, and the bird was pretty cheerful to boot.”

The Chief wasn’t snorting any more. He sat there, immersed in deep thought. Detective-Inspector Pollitt sat opposite him, gazing at his superior respectfully. After staring at his highly polished shoes for a few minutes, Colonel Hasterely said,

“Any motives, if obvious? Fill me in about the Shivam bird.”

Pollitt said, “Zilch, Sir. The Shivam bird had proposed to her some seven years ago, though he still tags around her like a lovelorn pup. However, if he bumped off the Adlakha bird after all these years to get to her, that’s one helluva love story for you.”

The Chief grinned and said, “Got the food analyzed?”

Pollitt stopped grinning abruptly and said in perplexed tones, “There’s the catch, Sir. The food for dinner was OK. However, port was brought in for all the birds. Uncommon, but there you are. The port has been analyzed, and there was enough potassium cyanide ( I’ve forgotten the scientific formula; who cares anyway) to kill three men!!”

The Chief erupted and said, “Ha!! Now we’ve got something!!”

Pollitt looked pained, as if denying a child of a Christmas present. He replied, “There’s a small catch, Sir.”

The Chief, still jubilant, said, “Eh? What’s that?”

Pollitt, still pained, said, “The port wasn’t drunk, Sir.”

Pollitt leaned back on his chair and watched in a half-amused manner as the Chief cursed richly and fluently under his breath. Presently, he recovered and said,

“Sure about that? I mean, he might’ve drunk some?”
"Enough to kill one bird?” he added in a half-hopeful tone.

Pollitt replied, “No chance, Sir. This fact has been corroborated by the other birds.”

Colonel Hasterely exhaled and said, “OK, it zeroes to this. Someone bumped off Adlakha and tampered with his wineglass. They may be different people, but it’s a huge coincidence that both attempted to murder him on the same night. Similarly, it’s too much of a coincidence that he dies accidentally when someone tries to kill him. If it’s suicide, then I’ll take to watching that bird Anupama’s films. No, it’s plain old murder. In fact, the kind of murder that would make Sherlock Holmes himself sit up and say, “You’re cursed if you say it’s elementary, my dear Watson.”

“Well”, said Colonel Hasterely, “I’m off to interview the birds. You had better tag along. And tell Hope to put the medicos’ report on my desk if it arrives”

“Yes, Sir”, said Pollitt, “I’ll do that.”

“Good”, grunted his superior as he strode off.